


If You Just Let Me Follow You Down

by showsforsnails



Series: After the Show [3]
Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), Rock Music RPF, The Band (Band 1968)
Genre: A lot of talking, Adultery, Bob Dylan/Bob Neuwirth - Freeform, Bob Dylan/Sara Lownds - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Biphobia, Levon Helm/Robbie Robertson - Freeform, M/M, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showsforsnails/pseuds/showsforsnails
Summary: "I want you to remember something," Bob says, and Robbie nods, ready to do anything Bob tells him to. "None of this is forever. One day we will play our last gig, pack our bags, go home and get on with our lives. At least I hope we will. But it's important that for now we live like this is the only life for us, or it won't work."
Relationships: Bob Dylan/Robbie Robertson
Series: After the Show [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772005
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	If You Just Let Me Follow You Down

Robbie wakes up alone. The sheets around him smell of other people's sweat and the sun is shining brightly through a crack in the curtains but the sunlight misses him: there's a long stripe of it on the floor, but the bed is in the shade. 

He doesn't stay long enough in hotel rooms to care and try to tell them apart; this room could easily be his, except he's beginning to remember last night. He knows he didn't dream it because he'd never dream of something as fantastic.

Had he thought of Bob that way before last night? He can't remember. For all his surprise, Bob kissing him felt like something that had been meant to happen, something he had expected but had been too blind to his own desires to want consciously. It’s not even the sex he finds so hard to believe, it’s being able to stay this close to Bob - they spent what hours had remained of the night sleeping in one bed, close enough to feel each other’s warmth.

It also feels like playing a strange game where no one has bothered to tell him the rules. Any moment he expects to make a wrong move and lose everything. Any moment he expects Bob to confirm he’s been acting on a whim that has passed, playing one of his cruel jokes that Robbie has been lucky not to have become a target of so far.

"Morning," says Bob, coming from the bathroom, still naked. "I'm almost alive, and you?"

Before Robbie can come up with an answer, Bob lifts the covers, slips in and settles with his back pressed to Robbie’s chest. That nervous energy of his is still there, he's still pulsing with it, but compared to his usual self he seems almost relaxed. 

Robbie puts an arm around him, prepared to be told off, but Bob makes a pleased noise and somehow presses even closer to him. 

Bob is so painfully, heartbreakingly thin and fragile Robbie is almost afraid he'll break from the slightest touch. Lately, Robbie has been trying to get him to eat, but with very little success. It’s like the only things that keep him moving are sheer spite and drugs.

Actually, he'd like to eat too. He also wants a shower, a shave and a clean set of clothes but he's afraid that once he gets up the spell will be broken, and who knows what awkward state they will find themselves in. 

He rests his head against the back of Bob's, trying to think nothing, just enjoy himself.

"Let's stay like this," he says quietly. "Can we?"

He wonders what time it is and how long he’s slept. It’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean no-one else is up yet; maybe they just don’t want to bother Bob. 

"I think one of these days was supposed to be a day off," Bob says lazily. "I don't remember which one, but as long as Albert or Bobby don't try to break the door down and drag me out of here, I think we're safe."

And with this, the feeling of quiet bliss is gone. 

"Shit," Robbie says, as the realization hits him. "They really can come in here, can't they?" 

"They can try," Bob says.

Robbie tries to get up but Bob turns around, pushes him on his back and moves on top of him, laughing, half-heartedly pinning his arms down. 

"Too bad the door is locked." 

"But someone will see me leaving your room, they will know I spent the night here," Robbie says, trying to remember where he left his clothes last night.

"What if they do?" Bob seems to find Robbie's panic amusing, and Robbie once again feels himself getting angry. He’s not trying to pull free though - as unathletic as he is, he’s afraid he’d hurt Bob if he used any amount of force around him. 

"Bob, I've told you already, whatever goes on between you and anyone else, keep me out of it. Use someone else for your games." 

"OK," says Bob, still smiling. "Listen to me. They’ll probably just think we played the guitar all night and then fell asleep." 

"And if they don't?" 

"Let them," Bob says. "It's not like I'm going to tell them the truth. I like to keep my private life private."

He grins again. "You know, I think Albert might even be relieved because you're alright and he likes you." 

"What about—" 

"Bobby? He'll have to get over himself. You're not going anywhere and the sooner he accepts it, the better."

"But—"

"It's like I said: there's nothing he can do to you. I need you and he's here to take care of me, and part of taking care of me is accepting you. Same goes for you, by the way: I need him, so you’ll have to get used to him." 

Then Bob moves to straddle Robbie, letting go of his arms. 

"It's the same thing we talked about last night, isn't it?" he says. "That everyone hates you? Robbie, you play to people who shout their hate at you every night, who have tried to _attack_ you, can you stop worrying about what someone might _think_? Does it matter how they feel about you if it won't change how I feel?"

Robbie remembers all those times he heard well-wishers tell Bob to fire the band. They were the ones ruining it for him, those bastards said, if only Bob got rid of the band, everything would be back to normal and everyone would love him again. And Bob ignored all that, didn’t even bother to answer, just kept doing what he’d decided to do, and kept the band. 

"Because to me," Bob says, " _to me_ you're important and I'll never forget how you stood by me. All five of you, and you, Robbie. You're just right for me, just the kind of guitar player I hadn't hoped to find. They'll know soon enough how great you are, but for now you're all mine."

He leans down and kisses Robbie, as Robbie raises an arm to stroke his hair and then slides the hand down his back. Robbie is taking in the still not quite familiar way Bob feels: thin, angular and deceptively fragile. When he fans out his fingers to cover as much skin as possible, Bob makes another pleased sound and arches his back, and when Robbie rests his hand on Bob's ass, he can tell Bob is getting harder against him. Robbie raises his other arm and pulls Bob down.

Then Bob pulls out of his grip, rolls off him and props himself up on his elbow. He smiles and touches a strand of Robbie's hair. 

"It's getting longer," he says. "Good." 

_Did I do something wrong?_ Robbie wonders, but Bob doesn’t look like anything is wrong. Bob looks entirely comfortable. On the other hand, you can never be too sure with him.

"I want you to remember something," Bob says, and Robbie nods, ready to do anything Bob tells him to. "None of this is forever. One day we will play our last gig, pack our bags, go home and get on with our lives. At least I hope we will. But it's important that for now we live like this is the only life for us, or it won't work." 

He pauses and looks at Robbie. 

"Do you understand?"

He is dragging, slowly and gently, the long fingernails of his right hand down Robbie’s chest. It feels weird but not unpleasant. 

"It already feels that way," Robbie says slowly. "Like there's nothing else, just this." 

Bob smiles and the tips of his fingernails move a little lower. Then he says something unexpected. 

"Have you heard from Levon?" 

Robbie shakes his head. 

"Do you miss him?" 

Robbie nods. 

Bob is silent. His index fingernail is drawing figures on Robbie's lower belly, making him shiver slightly. 

"Listen," says Robbie. "I know he let you down but—" 

Bob stops him.

"It was weird," he says, "but nothing I couldn't have expected. I mean, I'm so grateful you guys stayed, and I can't imagine doing this without you, but good for him to leave when he felt it was getting too much." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. You can tell him next time you see him." 

"I don't even know if we will meet again," Robbie says. 

"Oh, he'll show up," Bob says. "What else is there for him?" 

"Well, _you're_ planning to move on," Robbie points out. 

"Yeah, well, I have a family and there's no life left in me," says Bob. "I'd like to stop and feel human again. He just hated being booed. Why wouldn't he want to play with you guys?" 

Now that Bob has mentioned his family, Robbie just has to ask. 

"Does Sara know?" 

"Know what?" Bob's voice suddenly feels much colder and his hand stops. 

"About this." 

"Some of it." 

"She doesn't mind?" 

Bob rolls his eyes, takes the hand away, sits up, lies down, props himself up on his elbow again. 

"Look," he says, looking anywhere but at Robbie. "Like I just said, all of this is temporary. It feels like forever but it won't last." 

Robbie stays silent. This was so obvious and he should have realized, but he hadn't.

"Sara… What happens on tour, happens. When it's over, I'm going back to her and I will try to just _live_. And you should do the same with your life." 

"I don't think I have anything to go back to," Robbie says quietly. 

"Of course you do." 

"No, I don't think so," and Robbie really doesn't. If Levon isn't coming back, there's nothing to go back to.

"Then go forward. Invent a place you could go to."

Robbie chews his lip and says nothing. He really should have stayed quiet, he thinks.

Bob sighs and finally looks at him. "What I said last night was true, and I need you, I really do, but there's more to life than this. When it's over, remember this and move on. Until then, we're in this bubble together."

They are quiet for a while. 

"If you ever need me again after this—" Robbie says finally. 

"I will."

"And while the tour lasts," Robbie says. "If you don't want me off stage, if I’ve made it too weird or awkward, I can take it, but if you do—" 

Bob is watching him silently. 

"If you do want me," Robbie says with an effort, "I'm here." 

"That's what I should be saying to you," Bob says with a strange smile. "I should be telling you that if you still want me, you can have me, despite the way I’ve been. You’ve done nothing wrong."

There’s a long uncomfortable silence.

"Your guitar is still here," Bob says. "D'you remember what we did last night? I want to try it again." 

Robbie nods again, slips out from under the covers, as Bob gets out of the way, and goes to get his guitar, still lying there on the carpet, its neck warm and smooth to the touch.

"Where—" he's standing in his underwear in the middle of the room, blinking in the sunlight, with the guitar in his hand. 

"Your glasses are by the bed. Get back here," Bob says, so he does, grabbing the glasses from the bedside table, putting them on, leaning on the headboard as Bob sits cross-legged in front of him, humming the tune they came up with last night.

"Aren't you cold?" says Robbie, but Bob shakes his head and continues humming, gesturing for him to start playing. 

It sounds even better now, as Robbie adds little flourishes and variations and Bob half hums, half sings nonsense lyrics that should be silly but sound profound and hypnotic.

If Bob never wants to touch him again, Robbie thinks, they'll still have this, as Bob smiles at him the way he does when everything is going well and he's having fun.

Nothing feels uncomfortable about this. This is what he’s good at, this is where he can take all the uncertainties and surprises and find only excitement in them. While he’s still following Bob’s lead, this is the space where they are equal. He doesn’t feel this way just because Bob clearly loves the way he plays: he knows he’s good, and he’s working with someone very good.

"Put it away," Bob says finally. 

Robbie leans over the side of the bed to lay his guitar on the floor as gently as possible and when he turns back Bob is watching him intently, silently, and then moves forward. He slowly pushes Robbie’s knees apart to sit on his heels between them, as close as possible, and takes Robbie’s glasses off. As Robbie is pulled into a kiss, his hands move to Bob's sides. He feels like he's enveloping Bob in his arms and legs, and he doesn't want to let go.

"I'm being as honest as I can," Bob says in a low voice between kisses. "I need you, I want you, all of you, stop doubting that. I want you to be by my side, but not forever. Please."

"I'd do anything for you," Robbie manages. 

Bob kisses him again.

"Don't. Or do, but just for a while. Like I said, this situation we're in is so crazy that I need you to be wholly mine to succeed in what I'm doing, but once it's over we'll need to go our own way. We'll need to be free from each other."

 _I don't want to move on,_ Robbie wants to say, _I don't want to be free, I'd be happy to be stuck with you forever,_ but he knows it's not really true or wise. He knows that Bob is right, and once the madness of the tour is behind them, they will all need to move on to something slightly saner. He knows he wants this: Levon might come back, and if he does, there's so much the five of them haven't done yet. Still, for a moment he wishes this could last forever - being hated so intensely on stage and so isolated off it seems like a fair price for being this close to Bob.

"Hey," Bob says, smiling, "cheer up. We're not splitting up now. There's months to go. You'll be fed up with me by the end. And I won't really leave you alone even when it's over. I might still drag you into playing with me because you're just that good."

Robbie nods.

"Please don't move away," he says before he can stop himself. "Please, I've waited all morning." 

"For what?" Bob says, and before Robbie can answer, reaches inside his underwear and takes him in hand. "This?"

"Yes," Robbie breathes, and Bob takes his hand away immediately.

"Get up," he says, and Robbie must look really confused, because he ads, "Let’s get this off you.”

Instead of letting Robbie get up, he pushes him down to tug his underwear off, so Robbie pulls it down and lets it drop by the bed.

"Now," Bob says. "Where were we?"

The moment Robbie returns to their semi-entangled position, Bob sets to work on him. 

Bob's fingernails are the last thing anyone would want near their vulnerable parts, but Bob is surprisingly careful. The nail on his thumb does scrape Robbie's lower belly, but the sensation isn't unpleasant. Bob hears him sigh, grins, switches hands and reaches for his back with the right.

"Like this?" he says, pressing with the tips of the nails between the shoulder blades, and when Robbie nods, Bob slowly drags them down, forcing Robbie to arch his back and whine. 

He does this again and again, scratching with one hand while the other keeps a steady rhythm on Robbie's cock, until Robbie finally comes. 

Robbie slumps forward, barely noticing that the slight and frail Bob he's been worried about seems to have no trouble holding him. What he does notice is that, unlike last night, Bob finally feels warm. Robbie holds on to him, afraid he's going to pull away again.

"I haven't," Robbie says at last. "Last night and now, this is the first time I… I mean, with a man."

Bob rubs his back, as if to erase the traces of his fingernails.

"I thought so," he says very gently. "I hope this wasn’t too bad. And you really don't have to do anything you don't want. I know how it sounds coming from a guy who dragged you to his bed, and the more I repeat it, the weirder it sounds, but trust me."

"I'm not sure _what_ I want," Robbie says. "Apart from helping you with whatever you're trying to achieve with this madness, or not leaving your side as long as I can.”

"We’re not talking about _that_ ," Bob says.

“No,” Robbie agrees. “But I liked what we’ve done so far. Can I try more stuff?" 

"You can," Bob says. "Like what?" 

"I don't know," Robbie says, feeling stupid and too shy to say, _whatever you two were doing last night, whatever made you sound like that. I want to do that to you and for you to do that to me_. "Whatever you can show me?" 

Bob lets out a short laugh, his chest and shoulders moving against Robbie’s.

"Are you sure? You don't know what you're getting yourself into. What we’ve done so far is pretty innocent." 

"God," Robbie says. "I can't tell if you're trying to scare me or tempt me. Of course I don't know. Where I'm from, and where we used to play, you didn't do any of that if you wanted to keep all your teeth." 

"But have you wanted to?" 

"Yes," Robbie admits after a pause. 

"Anyone in particular?" Bob asks, pulling away to look at him. "Levon?" 

Robbie closes his eyes for a moment and nods. His mouth feels too dry to speak. Of course Bob would guess something he hadn't even admitted to himself until now. 

"But that was nothing," he says, but he doesn’t even sound convincing to himself. "It's just because we've always been so close. I don’t know what made me feel that way. And he wouldn't have let me anyway." 

Robbie adds quietly, "Am I that obvious?" 

It's mortifying to think that Levon has always known. Knowing Levon, he probably hated it. What if, Robbie wonders for a terrible moment, even though he realises he’s wrong, that was the real reason Levon left? 

"No, I don't think so," Bob says, and it feels like he's answering not the question Robbie just asked but the one he thought. "It was a wild guess, anyway. But it makes sense." 

"It's like I've been betraying his trust," Robbie blurts out suddenly. "He's been a friend and a brother to me, and I—" 

Bob sighs and says nothing.

Has Bob ever felt anything like that? From what Robbie has seen, it looks like Bob has had to deal with other people's unrequited feelings more often than having such feelings himself. But what does Robbie know? They've spent months side by side and Bob is still an enigma to him.

"Come here," Bob says and pulls him down, so that they end up lying upside down on the bed, their feet on the pillows, Bob on the messy sheets and Robbie on top of him, resting his weight on his elbows.

"I'm not good at this," Bob says quietly, looking up at Robbie, "But you have to stop that. You're not unloved. Levon cares for you, others do or will when they will get to know you, I… I do too. And people won't hate you if you put one foot wrong. Do you understand?" 

Robbie moves to lie on his side next to Bob and rests his head on the bed. "I hope so."

After all, he thinks, he and Levon have been through so much together, maybe they’ll work it out when he’s back. _Or I’ll just stay quiet and get over it,_ he adds mentally.

Bob reaches out to stroke his hair with one hand. He must have wiped it clean on a sheet while Robbie wasn't looking because it doesn’t feel sticky. He's so close their faces are almost touching.

"But even if they do hate you," he says, "fuck them. Do what you must. There's more to life than being loved."

Robbie isn't sure he agrees, but he doesn't argue. Still, he thinks, a life spent alone, believing you've done the right thing, must be hard. It doesn't sound like a life he'd want for himself.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this," Bob says, without specifying whether he means sex or the tour. "This is too much for anyone. But I couldn't have done it alone."

"I'm glad you dragged me, us, into this," Robbie tells him. "And I'm glad that _this_ is happening too. Just stop acting like you could change your mind any moment and tell me to leave. Makes me feel like I've done something wrong."

Bob smiles.

"I'll try. I really like you, Robbie. I'm just afraid I'm forcing you into something you don't want."

Robbie feels so happy it hurts.

"If you ever do," he says, "I'll let you know. Do you want me to?—"

Bob nods and Robbie reaches for his cock. He’s much less nervous now than last night, and it’s delightful watching Bob, who’s watching him with half-lidded eyes, throw his head back and bite his lip while still smiling. Robbie wants to touch every inch of Bob’s skin, trace every outline with his fingers and tongue, let Bob teach him everything there is to teach, but they probably don’t have time now. Still, as Bob said, they’ve got months ahead of them, and these months can be put to so much use. 

Whatever time it is, it seems that now everyone really is up. There are sounds of steps and voices, but no-one has come to knock on the door yet. Bob’s entourage must be waiting for him, afraid to disturb his peace.

"When this is over, I might retire from the world and live as a recluse somewhere in the middle of the woods, with only my family for company," Bob says lightly. "What do you think, would you move in next door to do nothing except make music in the middle of nowhere?" 

"I would!" Robbie says eagerly. "We all would, I think." 

Bob laughs. "Good," he says. "We'll be musical hermits together. Now get dressed before someone really does try to break the door down." 

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't expected this to turn into a series, and, because it took such a long time to write (sorry!), it's quite loose. Please keep in mind that the writing and headcanons might have changed slightly along the way.


End file.
